Tequila, and vodka, girl you might be a problem . . . Da-da-da-da da-da, da-da-da-da daaaaaaaaaaaaamn, Jet Jack, why are you so HARD to write?! I was struggling with this woman for THREE WEEKS here.
I've got her whipped though. I'm happy with the results.
Bleak meter: Neutral, but M-rated
Timeline: Sometime after Season 10/MotO (ain't most of 'em?)
JustRandom: The whole song suits them, frankly. :P
Heh, nah, there's MJ in every iteration of Spider-Man.
*eyes several other fics that have been lying untouched for over a year each* Procrastinating? Yeahhhhh, never heard of that.
Old man's got no cool factor, you can't be off here caring about people, dangit!
No, it was not supposed to be obvious. XD Seriously, you want to try your hand at ghostwriting these? I'll pay you in, ahhhh . . . one-shot requests? :P
That's actually a little surprising, Jackie is a struggle to write. (See above.) Her personality is so different from mine that I have to really process to figure out what she'd do or say, plus I love both my girls so writing her and Faith hurting each other is soul-draining. Not to mention I just have this thing where all insults and smart comments automatically sound unrealistic to me, so I constantly feel like her lines are lame. XD But thanks! Glad it's working out, somehow.
The eye is cool, ya. But I doubt in reality it'd have an attractive effect.
I think that might just be you having a good imagination. :P
What, Faith secretly in love with Chew Toy? Nah, he's a loser. Although to be fair she'd probably react even worse if it was anyone else, Chew Toy's loserly to the point that she doesn't find him as threatening.
Faith isn't the kind of person to get amusement from others' suffering. Except Jet Jack's. Jet Jack worked hard to earn that distinction.
Haha, no, she was just slapping her forehead because Chew Toy was accidentally making things worse. Bad enough that he created all that drama and awkwardness, now he's unwittingly insisting that he would never actually find Faith attractive. Not that Faith would want him to, but . . . not that she would want him not to, you know?
Thanks for the review!
Orchid: Dude, why do you think I'm doing any of this at all? To sucker punch people. :P
Eh, he's just Wu Lite. But as long as they don't come at me for copyright. XD
Well thanks, fren.
Uhhhh, toes? . . . wha? And I don't answer to threats, fren. :[
They would eat the shrews, sure, but they're impossible to catch. Unless you're a big dragon who just smashes into the ground mouth-first.
I don't know if "close" is necessarily the word for it, they're just kind of used to the situation and it doesn't occur to them to rock the boat.
Not exactly, but it's the realm's equivalent to coffee, yeah. And yep, my personal experience living in a desert realm and organizing mass slaughter of shrews. That one.
Who ghostwrites these Warriors books, then? And what's their day job.
To be honest I don't know what she was trying to finagle. Must have been bad if Chew Toy had that much will to resist.
They take turns cooking. Everyone is miserable when it's Arkade's night.
There will indeed be more on their backstory! :D And I got stuck with those two duos and now it's really hard for me to write any other kind of groupings. XD
That might also be the alternate timeline where society collapses shortly afterwards and everyone dies horrifically, you never know. Can't let these savages get out of hand.
Well, because new things are scarce, they can't be letting some people have 'em! Not fair.
They always suspected they were from other realms, and then when Faith went to Ninjago she got proof. And Ninjago's version of Taylor Swift? How do you know we're not one of the 16 realms and he's listening to OUR version?
FireCloud3: No worries, I know how much of a hassle life can be. Thanks for the review!
I love Faith too, but I kinda like the idea that she'd be unattractive. Not all ugly people have to be villains, and not all strong women have to be fiercely beautiful warrior princesses. And she's a good candidate: a big part of humans' sense of beauty is based on how symmetric someone's face is, and they went out of their way to make even her LEGO face all out of whack.
On the other hand, I'd certainly be ready to believe that either of her individual eyes is neat-looking, and either way beauty is in the eye of the beholder! I'm not about to stop ya.
Jackie's everything everywhere all at once; simultaneously the best and the worst. :P
Sometimes when Jet Jack was out on a tracer assignment, skimming over miles of silent, empty desert, the void got pushy. Especially if she landed to examine some traces. Sometimes she couldn't focus on extrapolating the direction the dragon had taken; she was too busy fighting off the thick, choking emptiness that boiled up inside her and seared at her throat, gripped around her lungs. The silence would seem to scream all around her, and often enough she hit the brink of screaming herself. The realm liked its cruel irony: the one with wings who could take off into the sky and leave everyone else behind was crippled with horror any time she was alone.
When she was with a hunting party, or in the bustle of Dead's End, the emptiness wasn't any easier. It just got easier to fill.
"Anything to do?" she sang, tracing a sine-wave path about three steps behind Faith.
"Not since you last asked fifteen minutes ago," growled Faith, who had fielded this question seven times this morning already. "Do you want me to make something up for you?"
"Eh, I can do that just as well myself," said Jet Jack. "Here's a thought, I could be grumpy for you today. That looks like hard work you're doing."
Faith glared back at her silently.
"I knowwwww, you do a better job at it than me," said Jet Jack. "But let someone else handle it a little while, why don't you? You're going to sprain something."
"Would you buzz off?!" said Faith, at the end of her patience.
"Woah." Jet Jack stopped as if overawed, then scoffed. "Now you're just showing off."
She didn't wait around for Faith's reply. Rattling around the village looking for new victims, she passed one of the metalworkers mopping his forehead after finishing a piece. She backtracked, attracted by his sweaty animal vitality.
"Well hello there, handsome," she sang, pushing back her visor for a better look.
"Wha?" Benji looked up, then scowled. "I have a girlfriend, Jet Jack."
"Well of course you do," said Jet Jack. "I wouldn't expect a specimen like you to stay single. That would be a real red flag, actually. Really hot, no girlfriend, you start to wonder what could be wrong with them, you know? But I bet nothing's wrong with you . . . "
She sashayed closer, so she was nearly brushing shoulders with Benji, and gave him a winning smile. He shied away, grimacing.
"Wh-what are you trying to do?" he demanded.
"Just help you out. You looked lonely, honeycomb."
"Not interested!" Benji backed away farther, his face red. "Would you leave me alone?"
"Oh, sweetie. So loyal." Jet Jack tilted her head in mock pity. "Come on, I've seen that little shriveled bit of skin you call a girlfriend. You really have yourself convinced that she's giving you what you need?" She slipped closer again, her hand stealing for the front of Benji's shirt. "Maybe you just don't know what you're missing . . . "
"I said no!" Benji stumbled back a few steps and yanked out his dagger. "Back the hell off, all right?!"
"Woah!" Jet Jack stopped, holding up her hands. "All right, all right! Keep your pants on, honeycomb. Sheesh."
Benji continued to brandish his knife, glowering. Jet Jack ruffled herself and swept away, muttering something about whipped bastards who didn't know what was good.
The pickings were poor today. Every flirty smile got her an eyeroll, every "heyyyy, handsome" got her a "buzz off, skank," every time she pushed back the visor to wink she only got middle fingers in return. All those she was used to, but what really got to her was the proportion of men who had taken to just ignoring her. That in particular stirred a second strange emptiness inside her that demanded violently to be filled.
She pinned down Mog finally, one of the weavers. He had just broken up with his wife and was still smarting and vulnerable to advances. One of her favorite kinds; they always went hard on the rebound. It was a decent night.
The hazy light of dawn found them sprawled next to each other, half-dressed and deep under. Jet Jack stirred, moaned, and rolled to press into the hollow of Mog's back. After a moment her dozing brain registered some portion of where she was and she nuzzled forward to press her lips behind Mog's ear. He sighed in his sleep and didn't pull away, which was all she could hope for, realistically. With a contented whimper she hooked her chin over Mog's shoulder and relished the warmth of his bare skin.
Some time later they both became a little more awake. Mog rolled onto his back and opened drowsy eyes, then started violently when he saw Jet Jack. After a moment he relaxed again and looked away, a strange shame crossing his face.
"Morning," whispered Jet Jack, nuzzling his ear. "Have a nice night?"
Mog shifted away from her slightly, and her heart broke a little, the same as it did most of these mornings. They never wanted her for much more than one night.
"You should go." There was a numb finality to his voice. The emptiness flared back to life in Jet Jack's gut.
"Awww, sweetheart," she said plaintively. "Already? It's only . . . " She glanced at the window, then shot upright. "Shit!"
Mog propped up on his elbows and watched from the corner of his eye as she scrabbled back and forth, tracking down all her scattered clothes, hauling them on willy-nilly, and stuffing equipment onto any hook or belt loop she could find.
"Sorry, can't stay, I have to make it to role call," she said breathlessly. "Thanks for a nice night, honeycomb. Do it again sometime?"
She went in for a kiss as she left, but Mog held up a hand to block her. She pulled back, wounded.
"Fine," she said, and slipped out the door.
She had to maintain a straight-up run to make it to morning report in time, and she arrived breathless and still rearranging all her equipment. Several of Faith's other bravors, and Faith herself, cast her jaundiced looks.
"Morning!" she chirped, tugging at a grapple that was on upside-down.
"Late again?" said Faith acerbically.
"Only just a little," said Jet Jack. "I was busy."
"Spare us the details," said Daddy No-Legs.
"Ohhh, are we jealous?" cooed Jet Jack. No-Legs only gave her a disgusted look.
"Your shirt is inside-out."
"Oh!" Jet Jack started and looked down at herself. "Oh. Ah that's fine, one second—"
"Jet Jack!" barked Faith. Jet Jack looked up, the hem of her shirt already hooked up around her elbows.
"What."
Faith glared at her silently.
"Yeesh," muttered Jet Jack at last, dropping her shirt and falling back into line.
"Freak," she heard No-Legs muttering. She didn't reply, because Faith looked like she only needed one more provocation to start violence, but she set her jaw, straightened her shirt, and told herself she didn't care what No-Legs said.
It was another typical day. Nobody paid much attention to her unless she was in trouble, so you can see where the incentives were laid. And second-in-command really wasn't that arduous of a role. Plenty of time for the usual: harass Muzzle, pick fights with Skullbreaker, drag Chew Toy into an attempt to build a catapult out of crates and crooked boards. Didn't go well.
"What in hell is going on now?" asked Faith, attracted to the scrapyard by the crashing.
"Nothing much, Chief," said Jet Jack, stacking two of their remaining unsnapped boards atop each other and clambering onto the nearest roof. "Chewie, hold still."
"Look, this time it might work," growled Chew Toy, fidgeting uneasily in his position at the other end of the boards. "I don't like heights!"
"You won't go that high, trust me," said Jet Jack. "And only for a second."
"You're the flier, why don't you be the payload?"
"'cos I have the jetpack, so I'm heavier," said Jet Jack, taking a few steps back.
"Must you, really?" said Faith tiredly, but Jet Jack was already jumping off the edge of the roof. She landed a bit off-target; the boards didn't break now that they were stacked two deep, but they jounced wildly and went all askew, yawing in opposite directions. Chew Toy was thrown more backwards than upwards and fell into a stack of barrels and crates, which came down on top of him with a deafening ballyhoo.
"For the love of the forsaken sands!" said Faith above the racket. She glared at Jet Jack, who was sprawled atop the disarranged boards laughing giddily. "Don't you have anything better to do?"
"Ahhh." Jet Jack shrugged and sat up, grinning. "Sure. I can think of a whole lot of things better than sitting here getting yelled at. But I don't know if that's entirely a me problem."
"What kind of message does it send when the second in line to run this hellhole spends her day mucking around in a junkyard breaking things we could have used?" snapped Faith.
"Nobody was going to use them," said Jet Jack, waving dismissively.
"A lot you know!" Faith looked up as Chew Toy surfaced from a welter of downed barrels, holding his shoulder. "Ohh wonderful, now look."
She went over to check on Chew Toy, who was bleeding. Jet Jack settled back and listened to the half-muffled strains of "let me see you move that arm" and plaintive "I'm really all right Chief, 's nothin'."
"All we need. Pointless injuries," said Faith, this one clearly audible. "Get Tsippa to look at that, all right?"
"Yes ma'am."
Faith gave Jet Jack a searing look as she continued onward. Jet Jack settled back further and brooded for a bit. Chew Toy propped himself up next to her, still clamping a bloodstained rag over his deltoid but making no great show of it.
"You've made the chief mad again," he observed woefully.
"You say 'again' like she ever stopped," said Jet Jack.
Chew Toy shuffled a bit, hanging his head. Jet Jack eyed him surreptitiously.
"How's that shoulder," she said at length.
"It's not bad," said Chew Toy gamely. Jet Jack shifted and inhaled like she was about to say something, but eventually only got up to leave.
One of Jet Jack's few strong points, when you gave her something to do, she did it vigorously. Thoroughly, no; overall well, no; but she had enthusiasm. When they were going out on a Shaggon hunt, as long as Faith delegated in specifics, she could be useful.
It was a long trek to the Shaggons' new grazing grounds, and there were mountains in the way. They were trying the journey with vehicles, and Faith was kept busy barking up and down the line to navigate them along narrow ledges and treacherous mountain passes. Somebody was always getting jammed on a rock or caught on a turn, and everyone behind them had to stop so they wouldn't get into a pileup and fall down the mountainside. Jet Jack was tracing an even longer and faster circuit than Faith, ferrying messages over lines of stalled vehicles and bringing back reports of ever more complications.
"Be damned, this was a bad idea," hissed Faith, looping a chain around a rock in hopes that they could winch one of their buggies off a different rock. The buggy's crew was busily unloading everything from the vehicle in case the winching process flipped it off the cliff edge two feet to the right. Mopping her forehead, Faith glanced up the sheer mountainside still towering above them to the left. There was still quite a ways to the top, and spiraling slowly up the mountain the entire way.
Jet Jack blew in and slammed up against the side of the buggy as she landed.
"I thought we were supposed to be climbing this mountain, what are you lot doing playing around over here?" she said. Faith glared at her till she rolled her eyes and stepped over to help tighten the winch chain.
"All right, are you all ready back there?" Faith called to the buggy's crew. "Start her up!"
The buggy's engine roared, and the chain tightened as the winch kicked in. One side of the blocky vehicle slowly began to heave upwards—but then there was a ringing metallic sound, and the chain flew loose, snapped in half. Faith and Jet Jack both hurled themselves out of the way so they wouldn't get decapitated, while the buggy's engine shrilled and stalled, eating the loose length of chain.
"Dammit!" groaned Faith, sitting up and dragging her hands over her face. "All right. This mountain is too much."
"Are you all right up front?" called somebody from the buggy crew.
"Fine," Faith shouted back, then turned to Jet Jack. "We can't turn around on this ledge, but getting to the top is going to take us all day. Go see if there's any other path over this mountain, or even some other way to get down it. Take us out of the way if you have to, this is ridiculous."
"You've got it, ma'am," said Jet Jack, saluting as she scrambled upright. One of her feet missed the edge and she pitched back off the cliff with a yelp. Several of the buggy crew in back cried out in shock, and even Faith who knew better started a little. Obviously within five seconds Jet Jack had popped back into view, her boosters flaring. She tilted her head as if asking what in the world that had been all about. Faith gave her an unamused look.
"You realize one of these days you're going to do that without your jet pack on!" one of the buggy crew shouted, also irritated.
"Can't come soon enough, right?" Jet Jack called back. Faith rolled her eyes, and the buggy crew was already turning back to work. Nobody said yes, but nobody said no either. Nobody said anything. Jet Jack's expression tightened a little, but she didn't push the matter. There was a certain vindictive snap in the way her wings flared out before she swept away.
She didn't find a better route for them, so they had to toil their way up the mountain after all. Bad enough that she missed a chance to be hero of the hour, the slow progress was absolutely maddening to her. She had no patience for crawling along painstakingly unsticking vehicles from rocks and cracks. Besides which, the situation left everyone on a short fuse, and she got her head swung at so many times that even she got tired of it. She took to circling the mountain at some distance, enjoying the open air. Then she got called back and chewed out by Faith for keeping too far away and not being available to catch anyone who might have fallen off. And sure, Faith yelled at her all the time, but sometimes it just felt like habit and sometimes it felt like her leader and friend was genuinely disgusted with her. This was one of the latter times.
She took to sulking for the rest of the afternoon, but that was unsatisfactory as well. Nobody paid any attention to the fact that she was sulking, not even to make sarcastic comments about how nice it was to see her quiet. All it did was rub in her face that nobody cared if she was angry or not. Or maybe even there or not, who knew? Really made the entire sulking process counterproductive.
When they finally reached the other side of the mountain, it was already well past dark. Faith called a halt and everyone basically threw themselves down where they stood. Jet Jack did the bare minimum to help set up camp, with much ostentatious banging of cookware, then took herself off to some secluded corner and hunkered down to service her jetpack, still smarting. Even Chew Toy preferred to continue some squabble he had going with Skullbreaker rather than come hang out with her; the ultimate snub. She had quite a case file going in support of feeling sorry for herself.
A few minutes later there was a scuffing of boots. She looked up to see Charity, one of the senior game hunters, standing over her.
"Dinner's almost ready," she said. "Coming?"
"I'm not hungry." A part of Jet Jack hated herself for stooping this low, going on hunger strike like a whelp trying to get extra attention from the nursery workers, but it had been her first impulse and now she was committed. Charity tilted her head.
"So what then, you aren't going to tell stories either?"
Jet Jack faltered, her bluff called.
"Ahhh," she finally blustered. "I bet nobody wants to hear them." When Charity rolled her eyes, not taking the bait, she added, "and I bet Faith wouldn't let me, anyway."
"You could ask," said Charity, heading onwards. Jet Jack hesitated, but her eyes brightened a little behind the visor, and after a second she got up and followed the way Charity had gone.
As she got to the busier parts of camp, Chew Toy came scurrying by, clutching a wristlet of dubious origin and chortling to himself under his breath. Seeing Jet Jack, he slid to a halt next to her and surreptitiously shoved the definitely-not-stolen wristlet into one of his back pockets.
"You telling stories tonight?" he asked hopefully. Jet Jack grinned in spite of herself, already mollified.
"I'd like to. If I don't, it's the Chief's fault."
Tipping Chew Toy an ironic salute, she wandered the camp until she found Faith, hammering a bent axle back into shape. Her aim wasn't good; she looked tired.
"Isn't that the metalworkers' job?" said Jet Jack.
"Whatever." Faith set down the hammer vindictively, not looking at her. "They're busy too."
Jet Jack cut a glance back to the rest of camp, wondering if there was anyone who merited picking some vengeful fights with. After a moment though, she turned back to Faith.
"So, I suppose your almighty ma'amness would be mad if I told stories tonight?" she said.
"I was going to ask you about that, actually," said Faith. She sounded tired too. "Everyone's had a hard day, and they could use something to take their minds off it. I was thinking if anything you could do, I don't know. One of the lighter ones?"
Jet Jack brightened, elated that her services were actually wanted.
"Actually I was thinking the other way," she said, now enthusiastic. "Maybe a new one from the Verty saga. Extra gore. At least one betrayal."
"Do you have to?" said Faith. Jet Jack's Verty stories were a loose, roughly chronological collection of the grimmest tales ever heard in the First Realm. The adventures just kept getting wilder and the cast kept growing, even with the remarkable body count.
"Oh please, Chief. I know what I'm doing here." Jet Jack was already sauntering off, but turned back with a half-grin. "Ye of little faith."
Faith ignored her, resignedly picking up her hammer again.
"I could add a new character tonight, maybe," Jet Jack called back. "Extra grumpy. Hammers things. Doesn't keep up much conversation. Eh?"
"Whatever," bit out Faith, and resumed hammering away at the axle. Jet Jack paused for a moment, wondering if there were any other channels she could try, but finally gave up. When Faith got into a mood she resisted cheering up on principle. Learned that the hard way.
After much squabbling and noise to get some stew parceled out to everyone, dinner went quickly. Jet Jack polished off her bowl with relish and tossed it aside, clambering up to perch herself on a nearby rock.
"Stories?" Several eager eyes turned to her.
"Hmmmmm, maybe." She smirked. "If you ask me nicely. Maybe some Verty?"
"Hell yes!" There was a clamor of approval.
"Extra gore please, I need it," called one of the top game hunters.
"And no happy ending, got it?"
"But just don't make Muzzle cry again, he's got first watch tonight."
"Are you people ever going to get past that?!" wailed Muzzle. "One time!"
Jet Jack tucked away her wings and waited for the noise to die down, smirking. Once she had a ready audience she spat into the campfire to establish her veracity and began.
She spun a pretty good one tonight, with extra gore as promised. Nobody interrupted, nobody told her to shut up. Everyone listened quietly, not whispering amongst themselves and barely moving. For at least a half-hour or two she could make people notice her. They'd want her to talk; they'd care she existed. The void inside her would fade for just a little while. Life was worth it for a bit.
She did forget to add the new character, but she was pretty sure she saw Faith listening with a little less of her usual disinterest, waiting for her to make good on her threats. That was satisfaction enough on its own.
Prompt was "Spellbound."
Fun party game to try in the First Realm:
Step 1: Be Jet Jack (inherently sassy, sick of repressing it under Iron Baron's rule, eager to test new boundaries now that the realm is under more lenient management)
Step 2: Be Faith (unsure where to draw the lines as new leader, anxious about becoming the next Iron Baron, inclined to assume that if anyone hurts her it must have been on purpose)
Step 3: As Jet Jack, be irritating and mildly out of line
Step 4: As Faith, avoid confronting this behavior because a) cracking down would be too much like the Baron and b) if you give any sign that this is bothering you you're clearly just giving Jet Jack what she wants
Step 5: As Jet Jack, assume the lack of backlash means everything is fine and you must be friends
Step 6: Continue escalating Steps 3 to 5 until somebody gets hurt.